Dreams of Fallen Angels
by Fluffykins0801
Summary: Sam returns to the motel room he and Dean are sharing and dreams of a night time visit with a certain fallen angel. (Warnings:rated M for IMPLIED sex, just to be on the safe side paring: SamxLucifer,its pretty short, and sorry for any mistakes I wrote this at like one thirty in the morning. Might make this more than one chapter i don't know but we'll see if people like it or not)


Sam had never been so cold in his entire life. He shivered as he tried to wrap the thin jacket closer around his body, cursing under his breath at the snow that was falling around him. _Go get some supplies _Dean had said, _Its just down the block you won't get that cold_ he said. Sam pulled his coat tighter again; his hand carrying the bag of cheap store brand food was numb to him. He scowled again as he made his way through the ever increasing snow fall, bringing his hand that was holding his jacket close up to wipe at his face.

Sam mumbled under his breath as his cold fingers fumbled for the key to the motel room they were sharing as he drew closer to it. The lights where out so it was safe to bet Dean had passed out while he had been gone. He kicked his boots clean of snow against the side of the door before shuffling inside, tossing his key on the table by his bed before putting away the food he had bought. He glanced over at Dean's sleeping form, biting his lip at the conflicting thoughts in his head.

Should he tell Dean about his dreams? About the times he had woken up, panting for breath? About why he hated the cold? He sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing at his eyes softly. No it would just bother Dean, make him even more paranoid about Sam turning to the dark side as he put it.

He sighed again as he laid down on the uncomfortable mattress, with its questionable stains and scratchy blankets. His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to push the dreams out of his mind, hoping that maybe he could get a peaceful night of sleep for once. Never had he been so wrong in his life.

His dream started out the same way as they had for the past year, with that god damned bench. It was the MOST uncomfortable thing Sam had ever sat on, and yet, every time he found himself sitting on it, talking to the same "man". He glanced over, hoping that maybe this time the dream would be different, maybe it would be Dean, or Bobby, or hell, even Jessica.

As sure as the devil himself, there he was….Well maybe that was too much of a literal description, seeing as it was Lucifer. Him with his cocky attitude, so certain that Sam would say yes to him. Sam's eyes narrowed as he scowled at Lucifer.

"Whats wrong Sammy? Are you still upset about our last litter conversation?"

Sam's fists clenched as he adverted his eyes, glaring at the ground. "….that wasn't real, it was just a dream."

"Oh I assure you, it wasn't just a dream. You woke up sore didn't you? Little bites on your neck, shoulders and some more…sensitive areas." That damn smirk was still on his face, the same smirk he had every time they "talked" as Sam kept calling it.

"S-Shut up!" His face flushed red as he tried to push the images out of his head. The feel of icy cold hands running up his spine, fingers dancing on his skin while a mouth just as cold as the hands kissed its way along his throat.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear it as he felt those same hands take his.

"I told you Sam, this isn't just a dream. Everything I do to you here, happens in real life." One of his hands came up, tracing a small pattern on Sam's cheek, sending shivers down his spine as he bit his lip softly.

He glanced up at, wishing he hadn't just as soon as he met his eyes. His eyes seemed to pierce their way into his soul, laying bare every sin, every good deed, anything and everything he had done in his life. And it left him wanting more.

More of his touch, of his voice, of that damn mouth working wonders on his skin. It left him craving the cold. Craving the thing he hated, and loved, the most.

Sam reacted with out thinking, leaning himself in closer to the fallen angel, to damnation itself and found himself not caring. All he wanted was to be touched, to be the only one being thought of by the one who had captured his mind and body.

The cold press of lips against his was his reward. Those lips, which would drive him mad by the end of their "talk," pressed against his firmly. Soon hands, just as icy pressed themselves against the small of his back, pulling him closer.

His eyes fluttered shut as he gave in, letting cold seep across his body as he brought his own hands up, tangling them in the soft hair of the fallen angel….of HIS fallen angel.

One thing he knew for certain as he felt himself being laid down on that stupid bench, he was going to have one hell of a time hiding the new marks from Dean in the morning.


End file.
